


Far Away

by Sheselectric



Series: Ain't Misbehaving [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Post RDR2 Epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheselectric/pseuds/Sheselectric
Summary: John takes Abigail on a short trip, but his old habits threaten to ruin their good time.
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston & John Marston, Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston
Series: Ain't Misbehaving [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678081
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Far Away

John observed her from the corner of his eye as they drove up the Big Valley. He forgot how much he liked seeing Abigail on the horseback. She was a natural -- relaxed but not careless as she held on the reins without giving him a second glance.

“It’s a nice country,” he said to get her attention and she turned around to look at him, her skin flushed red and a few dark strands framing her face. A pleasant warmth spread up his chest.

“Ain’t as nice as the open country,” she said while slowing her pace, “but it is nice.” She gave him a small smile before turning back around and watching the fields as they went on.

John thought back to the conversation they had before leaving Beecher’s Hope and he smiled under his nose. She sure was a stubborn woman, and the idea of a short get-away was hard to sell, but she caved in eventually. It wasn’t because John was such a smooth talker either, or so he figured. It must’ve been because she knew as much as he did that their lives were nothing short of hard work since they got the place, and out of all the people involved, she labored the hardest.

Abigail deserved a break, even if it meant relying on Uncle to take care of Jack and their livelihood while they were gone. Or maybe he trusted his boy to take care of the ranch and to keep the old man in check.

It was a done deal either way and all he could do was to ensure that Abigail was enjoying herself.

John looked around, admiring the fields of purple flowers tucked safely between the endless, dark forests, and figured that it would be just the place to settle for the night.

He flagged Abigail down and they dismounted their horses.

“You can relax,” he said as she got to unpacking the second her feet touched the ground. She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Relax with what?” Her tone was tipping the not-so-fine line between curious and annoyed.

“All that,” John said while rolling out the fabric to pitch a tent, “I didn’t take you here to work.”

She stopped in her tracks.

“You want me to do what then? Sit down and smell nice?”

He looked at her irritated expression before turning back to his work.

“I guess so,” he mumbled. He knew better than to argue with her.

“I ain’t the kind to bum around, you know that John,” she said, “should’ve taken Uncle if you wanted that.”

He let out a raspy laugh and Abigail soon joined him as they continued with their work.

~

The sky was darkening as John got down to making the fire, and they were soon sitting under the starry canopy with a hot meal in their hands.

“This is nice,” she admitted while taking a bite. “Weird but nice.”

“It’s good to get away sometimes, ain’t it?” 

And it was. Calm and serene and only with the two of them to enjoy it.

Abigail leaned into him before discarding her plate. “I’m still worried about the boy though,” she said and he exhaled quietly while rubbing her arm.

“I know,” he planted a kiss on her temple. “He’ll be fine. He's our son, is he not?”

She smiled and nodded her head, but he could tell she was still tense. He took her hands in his, playing with her fingers as they watched the fire.

“I was thinking of something else we could do,” he said to ease off her worries, and something mischievous glimmered in her eyes.

“John Marston, we barely settled,” she teased and he laughed in disbelief as he squeezed on her hand.

“I wasn’t saying that,” he looked at her puzzled expression. “I mean, that too, but I thought we could look at the stars. Or something,” he finished awkwardly, realizing how sappy he must’ve sounded.

Abigail laughed heartily.

“I forgot you was a romantic now,” she said and John knew she was up for it.

“Guess I am,” he said while standing up. He extended his hand. “Mrs. Marston?”

He helped her up and then down onto the flowery ground. Abigail settled by his side, head resting in the crook of his arm. It wasn’t something that old John Marston would enjoy, but it was something that his new self found weirdly endearing.

The sky above them was awe-inspiring, even for a rough, simple man like John, and he couldn’t stop himself from pointing to every bright star in hopes that Abigail would find them as beautiful as he did. And she did share his fascination, laughing quietly when they found a particularly interesting shape in the sky above.

John was playing with her hair lazily, enjoying the silence and the view until she lifted her head to look at him.

“I love you,” she said with a small smile on her face and the fact the words came so rarely, yet always in the most fitting moments, made his heart flutter.

“I love you,” he confirmed and pulled her to his lips, locking her in a tender, slow kiss.

And just as he thought they’d spend the evening rolling under the stars, they heard screams.

They both lifted momentarily with John tracking the tree line, and soon enough the cart surrounded by four horsemen rolled onto the dirt-road, wobbling dangerously as the screams started to fill the air again.

It was becoming clear to John that one of the local gangs was taking some poor women hostage. He’d seen it before and it made his blood pressure go up.

“Jesus,” Abigail whispered, pressing into John’s back as he had automatically shielded her from potential danger, “those poor folks.”

He didn’t answer, willing them to stay in the same position until the cart rolled out of their view. Then he stood up quietly and walked to his horse to put the gun belt on.

“What are you doin’?” Abigail’s voice was a mix of fear and anger and he felt a sting of guilt of what was to come.

“You know what I’m doing, darling,” he said while checking his revolvers’ chambers to make sure they were loaded. He handed one of them to Abigail and she grabbed his arm as he tried to retract.

“This ain’t our business, John,” she pleaded, “stop tryin’ to get yourself killed.”

He didn’t answer and instead placed a kiss on her forehead while removing her grip. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he said and mounted his horse.

“You’re a stupid man,” she shouted as he kicked the animal to gallop, “a stupid, worthless…”

John couldn’t hear the last of her words as the swift movement filled his ears with the sounds of the wind. His thoughts galloped nearly as fast the horse did. At first, it was an almost overwhelming guilt of leaving Abigail behind –- a bitter taste of failure over breaking promises.

Then, it was a disappointment with himself. No matter how many years had passed since the gang fell apart -- no matter how much care he’d poured into making a new life for themselves -- he was still a blood-thirsty outlaw.

It didn’t matter if the killing was in the “good” cause. He knew those were just excuses –- people lived and they died, and there was not much anyone could do about it. He couldn’t save everyone anyway.

If John reached for a gun, it was because he wanted to reach for it. This time was no different.

He could see the cart then, the horsemen completely unaware of his quiet presence behind them. Four men, one driver, and at least two women in the back. John reached for his revolver, figuring that if he lined his shots right, he could get two of the men straight away -– the rest would scatter, allowing him to jump off the horse and hide before they shot back.

The first shot went just as planned, going straight through the man’s skull and forcing his body off the horse. The other wasn’t so lucky as the cart rolled to the side, pushing his target away from the path of the bullet. And then, all of them were turning around with their rifles, shouting and shooting as John jumped off his horse and crawled behind a rock.

Four on one were not the best odds, but those were the exact types of situations that made John’s excitement spike. He fired his gun, hitting one of the men in the forehead, and snickered as he heard the others shout obscenities at him.

Angered meant sloppy and even if John wasn’t blessed with good temper himself, he knew when to keep his head low and when to fire. This had always been his saving grace, and it worked this time too as he methodically popped in and out of the cover to clean the remaining bunch. The last man needed to be shot in the back. Escapees -- not the ones John ever enjoyed killing, but the ones who had to be dealt with regardless.

He left his cover, stepping slowly over the dead bodies and towards the cart. The women lied hugged closely as he leaned in to help them out.

“It’s all right,” he said, “those bastards are dead”.

One of the women lifted her head and he took a step back to show them he meant no harm. She sat down slowly, pulling the other one with her. They seized John who took yet another step back, never sure on how to proceed with victims. He wasn’t good at emotional stuff.

“T-thank you,” the woman said as they got on the ground. “We – they, they was gonna do terrible things to us.”

“I’m afraid they were,” John said and then cleared his throat. “You should get out of here.” He helped both of them to mount the horses before freeing the animals. “Where do you live?”

“Just south of here, mister, not far,” one of the women said. “We don’t have anything to give you, but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he patted one of the horses. “Just go straight home.”

The woman nodded her head and whispered ‘thank you’ again before getting off.

John sighed, adrenaline finally dying off. He had to take care of the bodies before he left, and his stomach was already turning as he thought of the consequences of his actions. He tried to fend the guilt off as he started carrying the men deeper into the forest, but as he put the last body down, he knew he regretted everything he had done.

He didn’t feel bad about killing the men, not exactly -– it wasn’t as if he thought rapists deserved to live. But anytime he killed someone, he knew that he was putting his family at risk. Maybe not consciously, or maybe he just did not want to admit it, but the turmoil was always there, lashing out in the least expected moments.

He mounted his horse quietly and drove back to the camp, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation the entire way. Abigail was sitting by the fire, quiet but tense, with her eyes sparkling in relief for the briefest of moments as he showed in her vision. Then, a frown crossed her features and she stood up all too quickly, marching in his direction with a clear purpose. He dismounted his horse without a word.

“You good for nothing piece of shit,” she shouted while hitting him in the chest, “you could’ve died.”

Her anger was so intense he could almost taste it. John raised his hands, taking her hits as they came -– he knew he deserved the backlash.

“I know, darling, ok? I know,” he said finally, trying to get her to calm down.

“You know what, John? You know what?” She was looking into his eyes and he could see how disappointed she was. He put his head down.

“I know I shouldn’t have done that, all right,” he took a step closer in an attempt to soothe her, but she stepped back.

Abigail shook her head in disbelief.

“There is many things you shouldn’t do, but you still do them. Where does it end, John?”

Her outburst was getting to him. He knew she was right, but he was never good at controlling his emotions and it showed sooner or later.

“Where?” She repeated. “You told me I was to ‘relax’,” she was circling him now, hands in the air, “told me I deserved a break.” John’s eyebrows furrowed as he stepped forward, but she didn’t stop. “Does it look like a break to you? You’re a fool and a criminal, you always has been,” she spat.

The last words struck a nerve and he leaned close to look at her.

“Damn right I'm a criminal, Abigail. I was one when you met me.”

Heat erupted on her cheeks and she ground her teeth before speaking.

“You told me you’d leave this life behind,” she was up in his face now, “told me we’d be a normal family.”

There was always a moment in which Abigail’s anger would turn from frantic backlash into venomous accusations. She knew where to hit him -- always had -- and it was always this part that tipped him over the edge into the real anger.

“You know who you was marrying,” he seethed, his voice becoming even raspier than normal, “You know who I was. You made that choice, Abigail.”

He knew her weak points as well as she did his, and he knew he hit just the right one as her hand flew in the air to hit him only to be stopped with his iron grip.

“You’re right, I was a fool,” she said while looking into his eyes, “shouldn’t have married you. Should have left for good me and the boy, and find me a good man – a smart one,” she was shouting.

John pulled her to his chest, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. For a moment, they were silent, sharing angry breaths as they looked at each other. He realized why he was pushing into this argument -– the arousal, heavy and hot, was crawling up and down his skin, making the muscles in his stomach spasm. It was a reflex, a habitual residue in the likes of his other vices; a brief memory of the times long gone when they’d argue one moment and lie together the next.

“Maybe you should have,” he said with angry conviction and Abigail gave him a few heavy seconds of doubt before she caught his face in her hands and pulled him into a hasty, open-mouthed kiss.

The instinct kicked in and he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground. She bit his lower lip in response and a jolt of pleasure ran down his spine. He grunted, one of his hands traveling to the back of her neck, and his lips pressing into hers in an unrelenting frenzy.

The need inside him was growing heavier with every swipe of her tongue and every sigh that he heard from her lips. It was both blissful and nagging -– the desire to stay in the moment and to move forward; to enjoy where they were and to lie her down and have her.

The latter won as it always did, and John put her back on the ground, forcing them to walk back to the tent as she kept on kissing him, her lips landing wherever she could reach. While doing so, she worked on the buttons of his vest, forcing it off him halfway to their destination.

Next came his shirt, and Abigail’s lips left his skin as she distanced herself to focus on the buttons. Her hair was in disarray with loose strands framing her blushed face and John’s heart thumped in his chest on the sight. He leaned in, pressing his lips into hers in an intense testimony of his feelings.

It was a heavy mix of desire, love, and anger that was still lingering somewhere inside him. And he knew she felt the same as she returned the kiss.

Her hands trembled, nails grazing the heated skin of his stomach, and he pushed them further down the path until her back was almost touching the tent. He opened the flap without breaking the kiss and pulled them inside and down on the fur bedding.

Abigail hastily unbuckled his gun belt and grabbed on his hips to pull him between her legs. The way she longed for him stirred something inside and he rolled her skirt up, caressing her legs with his rough hands and hearing her breath hitch.

Normally, he would have taken his time, teasing her until she was forced to ask for more, but this situation was something different. It was rawer and faster –- more pressing –- reminding him of how he used to have her when they were so much younger.

He slid his hands up the sides of her body until they rested on her breasts that he squeezed softly before unbuttoning her shirt.

John wasn’t good at it, not while so aroused anyway, but he more than made up for his clumsiness by kissing every piece of skin he uncovered. His tongue followed the trail down to her navel, making her muscles spasm, and then a little lower until she stopped him with a tug on his hair.

“Come ‘ere,” she whispered hoarsely and he came back to her lips.

Abigail pulled the shirt off his back, her nails digging into his skin, and he gasped in her mouth overwhelmed with desire. John wanted more and he wanted it faster –- unable to stop himself like always –- and he put his hand between her legs. She was hot and wet, and more than ready as his fingers slid inside her.

He got even harder than he was mere seconds earlier as he started pumping into her, soft moans telling him everything he needed to hear. Abigail was never overly loud with him, a clear sign that her pleasure was real and not dictated by the circumstances, and it always filled him with a nasty sense of pride that he’d never admit aloud in the fears of getting smacked. He just bathed in the sounds, his hips grinding involuntarily in the rhythm of his hand.

“All right,” Abigail managed to say from under him, “that’s enough.” She put a hand on his chest to push him to the side, and before he could say anything, she was straddling him.

It was always a turning point for them –- the moment John knew she’d have him, and it made the tension that much more unbearable. He reached for the button of his trousers, sliding them down hastily as she shook her head with a knowing smile on her lips.

“Now you come here,” he rasped while gripping her hips and pulling her closer.

He could feel how hot she was before he even slid in and his hips jerked in anticipation. Abigail pressed her hands into his chest, leaning down to kiss him –- first on the lips, teasingly and all too quickly, and then down his chin and neck. He inhaled sharply as she licked the skin up to his ear.

“You're a real bad man, John Marston,” her words came unexpectedly and he laughed quietly while wrapping his arms around her.

Before he could answer with something similarly snarky, she straightened up, letting him slide inside her. The coherent thought evaporated from his mind as pleasure spiked down his body, and he closed his eyes involuntarily.

For a moment, she was moving slowly -- letting him get a feel of her. But as soon as he settled into a comfortable, lazy rhythm that didn’t threaten to push him over the edge, she started to ride him faster, each thrust punctuated by a nagging jolt of pleasure going straight into his loins.

John opened his eyes to see her looking at him. Her gaze was different than when she teased him -– no longer a playful invitation, but a raw need -- lust so intense that it made him sit up.

He squeezed her butt, pushing as deep inside her as possible, and the way her eyes rolled back in response made his desire go haywire. He picked a pace, thrusting into her without much care for the nasty sounds he was making. Abigail wrapped her arms around his neck and searched for his lips, opening them with her tongue and swallowing every gasp and grunt.

John was lost in the feel of her. It was bringing about the memories of his youth; of all the times they’d done it, hidden away from the sight of others. The thrill of not knowing if she’d ever have him again and the insanity that followed.

And despite all the years, she was still bringing about those feelings in him –- that youthful desire that never left his bones and which intensified anytime the lied together.

John slowed down, kissing her deeply and letting her take control again. Her movements were slower and deeper –- instilled to push him over the edge -- and he let her, the pleasure becoming overwhelming to the point of numbness. He managed a few more thrusts until he spilled into her, gasping for air, but still moving, making her follow with a loud gasp and a shiver that ran directly under tips of his fingers.

After, he held her in his arms, still inside, but all tension gone.

“You know you ain’t forgiven,” she said after a blissful moment of silence and he laughed, tightening his arms around her.

“Yet?” he asked innocently and bumped her forehead with hers. 

“Yet,” she whispered and pushed him down on his back with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.


End file.
